Cleaning the blackboard was like getting a do-over, but even
a brand-new day has a little chalk residue on it. Things leftover from
yesterday seem to occupy tiny spots in my mind.
They’re unplugged but remain illuminated. Perhaps stray current flowing from my
conscience causes them to stay on the board, like fragments of a sentence or a
fraction of some formula that hasn’t been completely erased.
I don’t know if I have ever had a completely blank
slate. I expect if I did, I’d want to
quickly fill it with something, otherwise I’d start seeing myself as lazy.
Then again, maybe I am lazy.
I can’t say that I’m really motivated to go and do something grand. There isn’t much I get excited about, or
anything I care to go and see.
For the most part, my mental excursions keep me occupied. In case you haven’t noticed, I write odd bits
and put them here. It’s only now and
then that I run across a thought that leads me down a dark alley. Like this morning I was thinking that, until
we are visited by aliens, we’ll remain at the top of the food chain. That particular thought sent me to places
best left to people like Stephen King. I'll just hold my breath and slap these erasers together.
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